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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194686">Connor Has A Goofy Laugh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace'>LadyDrace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Laughter, M/M, POV Hank Anderson, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just Connor's face that's goofy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Connor Has A Goofy Laugh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unbetaed.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor has the goofiest laugh.</p><p> </p><p>It sounds completely ridiculous, and there are no words in the English language that could possibly convey the sheer bone-shivering delight Hank feels upon discovering this.</p><p> </p><p>It’s obvious Connor wasn’t meant to laugh, the same way he wasn’t meant to sing, to sigh, to <em>feel</em>. His laugh sounds so incredibly awkward and just a little bit fake, like someone mixed together a fairly poor imitation of a laugh on the fly, from what scraps of voice clips they had lying around.</p><p> </p><p>Which… come to think of it, is probably what Connor did. Clearly at some point the desire to laugh hit him, and having nothing to fill that void with, he likely just made do with what he had at the time.</p><p> </p><p>But then he stuck with it. Didn’t change it to something better. Just let that awkward, halting thing remain the way it was, letting it ring out more and more often as he became more and more of a person.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, Hank is so incredibly charmed by it he hardly knows what to do with himself every single time he’s the cause of it.</p><p> </p><p>Connor is amused often enough. In fact, he seems surprisingly positive considering everything he went through, and the undeniable trauma he’s still trying to come to terms with. But more often than not his amusement leads only to his crooked smile or perhaps a brief huff of breath through a grin. It’s still a rare treat for that full laugh to come out, and it’s like being touched by something godly every time it happens, in all its quirky glory.</p><p> </p><p>Something golden and silky moves in Hank’s gut as he watches Connor’s eyes crinkle and his mouth open in a wide grin, before his head is tossed back for that laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Shit, Hank’s glad no one is looking at him right now, since he’s pretty sure his face is stuck in a very compromising expression.</p><p> </p><p>“And then, after all that, Jimmy kicked the fucker out and told him to not come back until he was ready to apologize to Mr. Fuzzikins. Funniest thing I ever saw.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor is still laughing, all stiff and weird with no movement from his throat, making it abundantly clear he’s not human. But he’s holding his hand on his stomach as if it’s aching from the laugh, and his eyes are completely crinkled shut as he shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“The teddy bear?!” he asks in a brief pause, and starts again when Hank nods and throws out his hands like <em>what can you do</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, no one gets to be a dick about Jimmy’s friends. Even when they’re a shitty stuffed bear.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor shakes his head again as his laugh trails off into a snicker that sounds a lot more natural, and Hank wonders if some random voice actor was hired by Cyberlife to record it sometime in the past, and somehow no one ever thought to record an actual full laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, this would be a perfect opening for a dirty pun about a certain subsection of gay men, but I wouldn’t want to risk offending Mr…” Another snicker. “Mr. <em>Fuzzikins</em> with any low brow humor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn right. Only the best quality jokes for Mr. Fuzzikins.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” Connor agrees, eyes still barely open from his huge smile, and Hank feels like he needs to get his fucking sunglasses out, it’s so bright on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Jimmy’s a decent guy. He, uh. He took the sign off the door last week,” Hank says, hoping he’s not killing the mood.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Connor seems to not lose much of his mirth over it, even though they both know what sign Hank means.</p><p> </p><p><em>No Androids Allowed</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“People are learning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. And you know, if Jimmy can call a stuffed toy friend, it should be a no brainer to make some android friends too, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor nods, finally calming down after his laugh, now only sporting his mildly amused crooked smile. The one that makes Hank remember long-forgotten desires he only really indulged in under the cover of night or at crowded concerts.</p><p> </p><p>Not because he was ashamed or anything. It just somehow never occurred to him unless there was booze and strobe lights involved. And the few times people have asked, he’s never denied it.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s been close to thirty years since he last got this stupid over an angular jaw and strong shoulders, and he damn near doesn’t remember what to do with it.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps it helped that I bought you that drink. How often do you pay your tab, again?” Connor asks, turning to him with a rude glint in his eye that <em>ruins</em> Hank.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, me and Jimmy have a gentleman’s agreement, alright? Keep your nose out of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Connor says, but Hank can tell it’s only a matter of time before he’ll be bringing it up again.</p><p> </p><p>Hank can’t even find it in himself to be upset about it.</p><p> </p><p>He’s always been the kind of asshole who’s most comfortable with friends who can mutually roast each other, and Connor seems to have taken to that game like a duck to water. As if he was just waiting for deviation so he could throw all the friendly abuse at Hank he’d been bottling up in all the time they’ve known each other.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a lot more comfortable than it should be. God, it’s difficult to remember that there are limits here. So very difficult, when Connor is all smiles and closeness and gentle ribbing. Like he sees all of Hank’s flaws, and only cares about them to the extent that they can be utilized for jokes at Hank’s expense. Something he definitely deserves, truth be told.</p><p> </p><p>Despite everything Connor knows about Hank, all the bullshit he’s witnessed, he’s somehow still here, hanging out on Hank’s shitty couch night after night, smiling and laughing, and seeming for all the world like there’s nowhere he’d rather be.</p><p> </p><p>It’s intoxicating, is what it is, and Hank needs to be fucking careful.</p><p> </p><p>“You should take me to a fair one day,” Connor says out of the blue, eyes fixed on the TV in a way that isn’t very convincing, and Hank frowns, trying to figure out what the angle is here.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“So you can win a bear for me in a shooting gallery. I’m fairly certain androids are not allowed to participate, as we would win every time. But I’m confident in your abilities with a gun. You could win one for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Hank shifts in his corner of the couch, still not sure what’s happening, but, hell, if Connor wants a stuffed toy, then Hank will damn well get him one.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess I could. Those games are all rigged, though. Might as well just buy you one.”</p><p> </p><p>“But that wouldn’t be as… romantic,” Connor says, still not looking at him, and Hank swallows what feels like a fist-sized cotton ball. He’s reading way too much into this, and he needs to tread fucking carefully.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, I mean. Yeah. There is a kinda… countryside charm to fairs, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor finally turns to catch his gaze, face back to the carefully neutral mask it was when he first arrived in Hank’s life, and Hank <em>hates</em> it. Wants it gone so badly it almost hurts inside.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure there is. But that isn’t what I mean. You should win a prize for me. As a gesture of romantic intent.”</p><p> </p><p>The cotton ball is back, and it brought a whole group of friends. Hank has to swallow at least four times before his voice can squeak past his throat again. Connor’s eyes are so brown and sincere, and Hank feels like his body is turning into some kind of barely contained ooze the longer they gaze into him.</p><p> </p><p>“I… I should, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>The word just hangs there between them as Hank quickly runs through the options that could possibly be making him hallucinate. Drunk? No, only one beer today. Tired? No more than usual. It was a pretty light day at work, actually. Sick? Not unless lovesick counts.</p><p> </p><p>God, he’s a mess. But Connor is apparently… into that? Somehow?</p><p> </p><p>“Connor, I’m… I’m not-”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless your next words are <em>not interested</em>, I would rather you not finish that sentence, thank you,” Connor says, snooty as all hell, like he knows everything and looks down upon any poor fool who would dare doubt him.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, Hank loves him.</p><p> </p><p>“Well. If… if that’s really how you feel, then I think you should maybe reconsider putting the job of <em>declaring intent</em> onto me,” Hank croaks, still half sure he’s dreaming, but, fuck, <em>what a dream</em>, in that case. “It could be a while until the next fair rolls around.”</p><p> </p><p>Sweat gathers between Hank’s shoulder blades as Connor ponders this, and then, after a moment, scoots carefully closer until he can lean cautiously against Hank’s side.</p><p> </p><p>After swallowing yet more cotton, Hank manages to get his shaky arm around Connor’s shoulders, and there’s a noticeable sink in his posture as he relaxes under it. As if he’d been unsure of his welcome, even as he’d brazenly informed Hank of his duties as a romantic prospect. And where the fuck he even picked up a notion like that, Hank can’t even imagine. He’ll have to ask sometime.</p><p> </p><p>“Why me?” he asks instead, voice barely a whisper, because, <em>fuck</em>, what if questioning it is enough to pronounce it dead on arrival?</p><p> </p><p>“You make me laugh,” Connor says matter of factly, and squirms closer to put his arm across Hank’s middle, clearly settling in for some serious cuddling.</p><p> </p><p>And he’s right. Fuck, come to think of it, Hank can’t remember anyone else getting that weird-ass full-body laugh out of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Well. I’m… I’m glad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too. I didn’t know how. There were so many things I didn’t know how to do before I met you,” Connor says, voice so low Hank has to strain to hear it over the drone of the TV.</p><p> </p><p>All he can do is squeeze Connor tightly with his arm, emotion threatening to spill over as he tries to come up with something to say. “You sure you’re not just… sticking with me for the novelty? I’m sure someone else could learn to make you laugh, in time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure someone could,” Connor says, sitting up suddenly, and Hank could die right now, happy with his fate, just from being caught in a gaze this full of love and adoration. “But, Hank. Life is short, we’re here right now, and being human means living in the moment.” His eyes flick to Hank’s lips, and, god, it’s <em>torture</em>. “You’ve told me that. Several times.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have. But I meant, like. Trying bungee jumping or some shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor snorts again, that smile right back where it belongs, and Hank can’t help but quiver at the sight of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Hank. Shut up,” Connor says, and leans in to give Hank a gift he never dared imagine he’d receive.</p><p> </p><p>Hank makes sure to repay the offering a few months later when he wins a gigantic stuffed dog for Connor at a shitty shooting gallery.</p><p> </p><p>End.</p>
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